


and then...

by titasjournal



Category: The Durrells (TV)
Genre: after the basil got punched, fix it for season4 episode 5, just a lil angst and fluff, short but sweet, they fet their shit together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:27:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23230930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titasjournal/pseuds/titasjournal
Summary: “Oh, Spiro,” She places a tentative hand on his shoulder to steady him and the skin beneath her palm burns. “I truly never meant to come between you and your wife. You have to know that.”His hunched back rises and their faces are now closer. “It is all my fault. I cheated on her every day in my mind. Every moment I chose to spend with you and your children and not her, I was cheating on my wife. Even if we- if I- even if we never did something.”
Relationships: Louisa Durrell/Spiros Halikiopoulos
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39





	and then...

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fanfiction for these two and in this fandom, so just bear with me!  
> any sort of feedback (good, bad or in between) is very much appreciated! i hope you like it!
> 
> if enough people ask, i'll continue this with one more chapter, but nothing is in the works yet :)

“Humm,” Spiros’ reaction to the last batch of biscuits he and Louisa made was only reinforced by her own:

“That’s good!” She beams at him from across the table full of baked goods and sugary love. 

As if in unison, Spiros reiterates: “Those are really good!” 

Both of them point at the biscuits as if in silent agreeance. “Too good.” She says. “We’ll keep these.”

Suddenly, a male voice erupts inside the villa’s kitchen - Theo’s: “Mr. and Mrs. Bunn, the royal bakers!”

Louisa’s heart fluttered at the implication of being married to Spiros. Nowadays, just hearing her name in the same sentence as Spiros’ made her blush like a giddy school girl. She could only imagine the scene in front of Theo: both her and Spiros - her very married, not-so-secret love - in matching blue aprons, disheveled from the food fights and ever-so-innocent shenanigans - they must appear all but friends. Lovers, even. 

She only wishes. And what she longs for more isn’t what her eldest child has been teasing since the first day they arrived in Corfu: sex. Of course, she can’t help but fantasize about making love to Spiros, her greatest friend and most treasured confidant.

No, what she longs for the most is, indeed, these domestic vignettes of bliss - the car horn sounding to let her know he was there to see  _ her,  _ the cheeky smiles in the morning, the playful teasing...

_ Why can’t he just… leave his wife? _

Louisa chastises herself for such improper thoughts. She should be so lucky for having had one great love in her life. There’s no one fated as to be gifted more than that. 

* * *

The whole Durrell clan could hardly believe the scene before them: Spiros punching Basil in the face, upon the realisation that he had been having an affair with his wife. What’s more, Louisa herself had been the bearer of the bad news, thanks to Leslie’s failed, while well-intentioned attempt to bring her mother and Spiros together. 

“Spiro, we’re all to blame!” she shouts, trying to preserve what is left of Basil.

“You interfered in my life and in my marriage.” Spiros walks towards her, his face stone-cold. “I was the last to know.” 

Louisa can feel her eyes brimming with tears. And then, her whole world comes to devastatingly crashing halt. The pain she feels right then can almost be compared to that of losing her husband. He says: “I can never forgive you.”

And then… Louisa had always thought those words,  _ and then _ , were a prelude to something lovely. Like the all-consuming motherly love she’d felt for her first child after carrying him for nine months or the arrival of her husband after a long, tiring trip. That swift, surprising transition of nothing to everything.

But now… It was as if all sensation left her body entirely - and she wasn’t even being dramatic. All she ever wanted was to raise good, smart children and teach them right from wrong. Yet, here she was, in a public square, in the middle of the night, interrupting a movie screening because she couldn’t help but fall in love with a married man. Married.  _ Oh, Louisa. _

“I know I’ve made everything worse,” Leslie clutches his mother’s frosty hand. “But, as the son you confide in, I do think you should go talk to Spiro. Before it’s too late.” 

“Oh, Leslie.” She weeps, clutching his son and waving her free hand to invite her other children in. They huddle around Louisa and rub her back in soothing circles. When she feels this overwhelming love from her children, she can’t help but sob a little louder. They are the reason she is here. Every day, they remind her of her late husband, the best partner she could’ve ever prayed for. Yet… Spiros has become as part of the family as if he’d been right there, with her, all her life. And perhaps, this one time, Leslie was right. She should try and make amends. Even if she couldn’t be with Spiros, she could at least make sure he was in her children’s life. 

She walks hurriedly down the cobblestone path Spiros had fled through, which leads her all the way down to the cliffs. The evening air is cold, yet something about it feels like home, finally - not the cold, moist air of England; the cool breeze of Greece, of her island. 

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she sees two faint sources of light, coming from below. She walks closer to the edge and makes it out: Spiros’ car. Oh, how she knows it so well, even in the darkness of the night. 

She descends down a path of sand and weeds, tentatively making her way towards Spiros. She hasn’t the faintest idea of what she’s going to say once she reaches him. Or even what she  _ wants  _ to say. 

Step by step, she reaches his car and finds him sitting on the passenger side, arm slouched on window frame. He doesn’t even look her in the eye when he says: “Go away, Mrs. Durrells.”

The usage of her last name is yet another brick on the wall he’s been building between them, and as much as she expected it, it still hurts. 

“Please, Spiro, if I could just explain-” he cuts her off, at last looking directly at her. 

“There is no explanation. I failed my mother. There is no explanation.” 

And then something Louisa had never expected to happen, not in a million years, actually happens right before her eyes: Spiros breaks down in tears. 

“Oh, Spiro,” She places a tentative hand on his shoulder to steady him and the skin beneath her palm burns. “I truly never meant to come between you and your wife. You have to know that.” 

His hunched back rises and their faces are now closer. “It is all my fault. I cheated on her every day in my mind. Every moment I chose to spend with you and your children and not her, I was cheating on my wife. Even if we- if I- even if we never  _ did  _ something.”

“She left you! She took your children! She cheated on you! You can’t possibly feel complete blame for that.” 

“You have no idea what you are talking about, Mrs. Durrells.” His tone is venomous. 

“Oh, but I do, don’t I? I have stayed faithful to my husband, even nine years after we parted. I wear my wedding ring every single day. I know what marriage entails and how precious it is. And for that, I know it does not entail two people who no longer love each other, who both would be better off with someone else, to be together. You owe it to yourself to be happy for once, even it costs you a sliver of the pride you hold so dear.” 

She’s out of breath after that, and frankly, regrets half of what she told him. Yet, she feels as free as a bird. 

“Louisa…” 

Her name echoes in the still of the night. It reverberates in her skin cells and seeps into her body, her heart. 

“Say my name again.” She pleads, tears flowing silently down her cheeks. 

“Louisa, my love.” He opens the door of his car and pulls her inside, onto his lap. 

“Ohh,” She says, as she finds herself sitting on a man’s lap for the first time in… ages. 

“Louisa, Louisa…” He whispers in her ear, his nose pressing against her chestnut curls. His hand drops from the small of her back to her bottom, almost imperceptibly so.

“Don’t get cheeky with me now!” She tries to convincingly admonish. Her voice sounds less authoritarian and more shaky and expectant. 

He gently squeezes her bottom through the sheer material of her blue and white dress. His own country’s flag colors pale when compared to this dress on her milky skin. 

“Mrs. Durrells.” He brings a finger to her chin and tilts her head towards him, so they’re eye to eye. 

“For the love of God,” She whispers. “Don’t ever call me anything but Louisa ever again.” 

He smiles a crooked smile, that smile that is all his and no one else’s. “I love you.” She blurts out before she can even think about the weight of those words said in a moment like this. 

But to her pleasant surprise, Spiros whispers: “I love you.” 

She smiles through her small tears and he laughs when their foreheads touch. He wraps his arms around her waist, as if they were made especially to hold her for eternity. She brings a hand to his cheek and caresses his freshly-shaven skin. 

“I can’t believe it took us this long to finally say it.” 

They laugh blissfully. 

Then: “You know, even when I never told you, I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” Her heart swells. 

“May I…?” She starts, nervously. His eyebrows crease. She smooths the crease down with the pad of her thumb and then, along the fullness of his lips. His face inches towards her imperceptibly, and she can feel his warmth. His lips press against her thumb and, suddenly, she feels the wetness of his mouth on her skin. 

“May I?” Spiros mirrors her. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

So his hand travels to the back of her neck and gently brings her face towards his. His lips part, as do hers, in a breath that is, all at once, what they’ve been waiting for. 

And so, his lips touch hers. 


End file.
